Ava's hands slid along the cracked and worn surfaces, attempting to find a place that wasn't sticky to sit on.

Finally finding a small patch that wasn't as sticky as the rest, she scooted on and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them to keep warm.

She was used to going through dumpsters for odds and ends that could be useful to her. Heck, she'd even slept in dumpsters.

But she never found comfort being by them- they reminded her of what she was.

Garbage.

Trash.

Refuse.

Easily discarded.

Someone else's junk.

They'd been in this city only a few days, but long enough for them to figure out that the people they were searching for weren't there. Rath had sworn a blue streak when he'd found that his contacts had lied.

Ava wasn't surprised. Rath's contacts always lied - they were as trustworthy as he was. But when she'd attempted to hint at this, Rath had threatened to give her a beating such as she'd never seen.

So she put up, shut up, and allowed them to drag her to whatever city was next on the list.

Rath and Lonnie found that they could pick up new accents as easily as Lonnie shoplifted small items. They did it simply to best fit in with their chosen targets.

They always had that look of hungry predators, their beaded eyes like heat seeking missles searching for the most vulnerable prey. Like a cat stalking a canary.

Ava was sick of being the canary. But she didn't like to see random strangers being eyed that way either.

Rath and Lonnie were evil, and everything they touched was irreparably damaged by them. Tainted by them.

They'd gone to party tonight. When Ava hadn't wanted to join them, they'd forced Zan to come with, leaving her alone.

Ava knew it was punishment for not simply meekly following them, and while she'd been so proud of herself for taking a stand, she hated being alone.

Zan had sent her an apologetic look as he was dragged off, and Ava could almost forgive him. Even if he never told Rath and Lonnie no. Even if, in her dreams, he shook them off and chose her over them.

But it was because of just those things that she could *almost* forgive him.

She shivered a bit as a biting wind whipped down the alley, and she curled in on herself.

She used to have a jacket, a leather one, a real fine one. But then they'd gotten stuck in LA with no money, and Rath had stolen her coat from her while she was sleeping one night.

He'd pawned it off for some quick cash. When she cried, he told her that if she hadn't been so damned stupid and allowed him to take it while she was sleeping, she'd still have it.

Ava supposed he was right.

It wasn't just the warmth of the jacket she missed. It was owning something - having something to call her own.

The group each had something to call their own.

Lonnie had her pocket blade, shiny, new, and stolen from a store in Washington.

Rath had the car, something he'd 'picked up' off the streets of Philadelphia. Oh, and the license plates he and Lonnie had switched with the original ones from the car when they were in Albequerque.

Zan had his worn basketball which he'd found lying in an alley in New York.

Ava was proud of Zan for picking something that wasn't stolen, wasn't lifted. The basketball had been discarded, and yet he'd cherished it from the moment he found it.

Discarded.

Trash.

Junk.

Ava sniffed slightly. He loved that ball more than anything. More than her.

She loved Zan with all her heart. She felt her love sitting right beneath her heart, so real that when she put her hand over the spot she'd swear she felt that love, as solid as anything.

She'd run far away from Rath and Lonnie, if she had Zan there to hold her. To guide her. To love her.

But she wasn't good enough. Rath and Lonnie had both seen to that. They'd shown Zan how weak she really was, how pitiful, how useless.

And that was why he was out with them, and not sitting with her, shielding her from the wind and the cold.

Because her own 'family' didn't love her. Felt she was garbage.

And one day she was certain she'd be discarded, just like that ball.

But the question was- would Zan come and get her? Pick her up, dust her off, and finally love her?

Would anyone?

Or would she just be garbage...forever?

Discarded.

Lost.

Forgotten.